Gray Stables
by Ryolie
Summary: She was never one to quit, especially not after her father was all she had left. She supposed that was what had placed her in this predicament in the first place, staring into the dark eyes of the surly man in front of her. "I want to make a deal with you." AU, No Zombies
1. Ghosts

**Gray Stables**

**She was never one to quit, especially not when her father was all she had left. She supposed that was what had placed her in this predicament, staring into the dark eyes of the surly man in front of her. "I want to make a deal with you." AU**

**Ghosts**

"Bethie, I'm sorry."

"I know, dad." And she did. She knew with her whole heart that every ounce of Hershel's battered and bruised soul was screaming with sincerity. She acknowledged his apology.

She just didn't know if she would ever be able to accept it.

But she wanted to.

_God_, how she wanted to.

And that's why they were here. Had been here for the past twenty minutes, truck parked at the curb, bodies tumbling in rhythm with the idling engine. If it had been any other situation, Beth would have found it soothing. The gentle motion lulling her to sleep, mimicking the cradle her mother used years ago when she was just a tot. If she closed her eyes, she could smell the lavender soap she used, could hear the old folk songs she hummed. She wasn't sure why she could remember such miniscule things.

Ghost memories coming back to haunt her, she supposed. Remind her of things that once were, but never would be again.

"Will you…" Herschel's words were smothered by a sob, breaking Beth's heart all over again. If her limbs weren't weighted with exhaustion, she would have reached out to him. Instead, she merely waited. She had years of practice with that by now. When he regained his voice, Hershel looked back at his youngest daughter, "If Maggie calls, will you tell her I'm sorry?"

Beth didn't think Maggie would be calling either of them for a very long time, but she nodded anyway.

"And I'm sorry to you, too." His voice crumbled again, and he cradled his face in the palms of his hands. This time Beth did reach up to grab her father's hands, gently pulling them to rest at his lap. He didn't need to hide anymore. That was what had gotten them here in the first place.

"I can go up if you want, wait with you until the doctor calls you back?"

"No, it's okay," A faint grin graced his lips. "You're too good of a girl to have to waste your time in a place like this."

"Dad, honestly, I don't mind-"

"I've got to do this myself, Beth." He steeled himself, hand lingering on the doorknob. "I don't think I deserve a daughter as good as you, but for whatever reason, God granted me with a saving grace. I'm ashamed of myself for taking advantage of such a miracle." He leaned over, lips brushing against her blonde locks. "I appreciate everything you have ever done, but you can't help a man that can't help himself. It's about time I do things on my own for once, and I need you to understand that."

"I do." It was the only reply she could manage, fearful of losing her strong front. Beth was in a bizarre state, trapped between a restless mind and an exhausted body. Her brain was in constant motion, craving some type of stimulation, but her body refused to move from its hazy position. Her limbs slugged to the ground, protesting the rowdy thoughts of the long nights that forbade much needed rest. At this point, Beth didn't really care whether her brain or body won the never ending battle.

She just needed something to give.

"I'll call you when I get out," he said, hugging her before he slipped out of the truck without another word.

It took two minutes and twenty-six seconds for him to reach the front entrance. Another thirty-two seconds for him to pass through the automatic doors. And after an anteceding twenty-six seconds, the tented windows completely concealed his shadowed form as he turned down a hallway.

She waited another fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds for him to reappear.

And after she finally realized that Hershel was actually going through with his plan, she drove away, caught somewhere between haphazard relief and unshakable fear.


	2. Scars

**II. Scars**

Beth did her best to give her father the benefit of the doubt.

Yet, she was ashamed to admit that instead of going home after dropping Hershel off at therapy, she lurked nearby. Sometimes to the coffee shop directly across the street, sometimes to the bookstore eight blocks over, but always within a visible radius of the building's entrance.

She knew that if her father discovered her lack of trust he would be devastated, but the repeated mistakes of the past had left their scars. It was unfortunate that she seemed incurable, but the injuries would be worth it as long as her dad got better in the end.

And in order to ensure that he got better, she needed to see for herself that he was actually going to the meetings designed to help him do so.

And on that bitter windy morning when she spied a familiar willowy head slip past the hospital's exit, slinking down the street, she waited on baited breath.

She gnawed on her lip, wondering if she should even bother to pray for Hershel. In the end, she decided against it. God had long ago stopped listening to her; she realized that she should just save herself the inevitable disappointment.

Besides, the more her prayers went unanswered, the more she wondered if someone even existed to answer them in the first place.

And when Hershel crossed the street, peering in every direction before finally entering the bar on the corner, a slurry of emotions consumed her.

Disappointment seemed to be a defining characteristic in her life these days. She wondered when she would no longer be surprised at the constant letdowns. And the heartbreak that came with the constant letdowns. And the anger that stemmed from her self-hatred for allowing herself to constantly have her heart broken.

_I quit._

Unbidden, it was the first thought that entered her mind, and she didn't even fully understand it. She quit- at what exactly? She couldn't quit being Hershel's daughter, and as a result, she couldn't quit caring. She couldn't quit trying to help her father get better, because despite his numerous letdowns, he was her flesh and blood. And not only in the biological sense, because before the sickness consumed him, he was a good man. He was a great husband and an even better father.

And Beth hated herself in that moment, despised that she almost wished he had been a terrible man, because then it would have been so much easier to just let go, to convince herself that it wasn't worth it.

But none of that was true.

Beth would spend the rest of her life trying to restore the man that once was her father, even if it completely ruined her.

Because Hershel was worth it.

And even after he crept back over to their meeting place several hours later, slinking into the truck reeking of false innocence, she found a new sense of determination. She played ignorant, allowing Hershel to believe that his masquerade of cologne and mints had fooled her. By now she had mastered the art of a trained facade.

And later, as the ebony sky gave way to a fierce storm and Hershel turned in for the night, Beth put her plan into action.

**I apologize; It's a short, filler chapter. Until the story is set in motion, my intention is to post shorter chapters every day. They will get longer, though, and I'll probably post once or twice a week. Unless the shorter chapters are preferred? If so, feel free to let me know.**


	3. Fear

**III. Fear**

As her hand lingered on the door, Beth couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't thought things through well enough. Despite hating being perceived as naïve and sheltered, she couldn't deny that it wasn't too far from the truth. Did she really belong at a place like this, at a time like this, on a Friday night no less?

She surveyed the parking lot around the bar, noticing far more cars than she had earlier in the day when Hershel had been here. She wasn't particularly surprised, but it still didn't stop the fear from creeping in.

But she had driven so far, braving through the complete downpour, and she wasn't about to give in so easily.

As she stepped inside, barely inching past the doorway, she marveled at her surroundings. It wasn't nearly as crowded as all the movies had convinced her it would be. And the music didn't threaten to burst her eardrums, either. You could actually hear your own thoughts, which at the moment, Beth wasn't so sure was a good thing.

She glanced over at the bar, noticing a few people spaced throughout sipping on their drinks. She also spied who she assumed to be the bartender, his back to her while making some foreign concoction. She couldn't even see his face, but his tattered clothing and disheveled hair filled her with hesitance. It looked like he had just rolled out of bed before heading into work. And while originally her plan was to approach and reason with the person responsible for supplying her father with alcohol, she could somehow sense that this man wasn't exactly friendly.

And as he turned around, she was proven correct, his dark eyes glaring at her, "Out."

She gaped at him, wondering how someone could dislike her before she even opened her mouth. Was she not following the appropriate dress code? Had she angered him by dampening the floor with her soaking clothes?

Or worse, had he caught her leering at him? "Pardon me?"

"Get out," he grunted. "Don't even to see your ID to know you ain't old enough to be in here."

The few people seated at the bar turned to look at her and she flushed in embarrassment. "Oh, no, I'm not here for alcohol. I'm here to-"

"Don't care," he interrupted, plopping the drinks down on the counter a little too roughly. She could have sworn she heard the glasses crack. Maybe she was mistaken; perhaps it was her heart, instead. "If you're lost, go to the Starbucks across the street for directions."

Despite the fear that threatened to weigh her down, she took a step closer, carefully approaching the snake and his venomous words, "Please, I was just wondering if I could talk-"

"I said no." When Beth made no leave to exit, he threatened, "Do I need to remove you myself?"

"Please, you don't understand, I need-"

Before Beth could even finish her plea, an older man poked his head from around the corner. She wanted to groan, realizing that his appearance looked just as unwelcoming as the bartender. If anything, his greasy hair and tobacco-tinged teeth him even more unapproachable. He slung his arm around the darker haired man, "Now Daryl, what seems to be the problem? That ain't no way to talk to a paying customer."

"Ain't no customer," he grumbled. "Look at her, man. Looks to still be in high school."

Though she thought it to be impossible, her face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, "I'm not! I graduated last year, I swear."

The older man inspected her for a few moments, skeptical on her word. "You got an ID?" Hastily, she scored through her purse, yanking out her wallet and sliding it over to him. He grunted in thought, "Well, you told the truth. Says you're nineteen, though, so you still ain't old enough to drink."

"I'm not trying to drink," she groaned in exasperation. "I was trying to talk to someone about my dad, and if someone had actually let me explain myself, I could have established that ten minutes ago." She glared the most menacing look she could muster at whom she now identified as Daryl. She didn't care that it seemed to have absolutely no effect on him; she just took pride in the fact that she was giving him the same rude treatment he had given her.

"Pay no attention to Daryl, he ain't exactly a people person. I swear if he weren't my brother, I'd have fired him years ago," he guffawed, his smile revealing a gold tooth glinting against the harsh overhead light. Weren't bars supposed to be dark and seedy? Perhaps it was just Beth's discomfort that made it feel as if a spotlight had been focused on her. "Now what were you saying about your daddy?"

"I…" And suddenly, the words died in her throat. The entire drive, Beth had mentally practiced every single word she would say. She envisioned herself standing tall and confident as she persuaded the bar personnel to reason with her. Instead, her shoulders hunched forward and she tugged at her hair in nervousness, "Well I… um, did you see an older man come in earlier today? He has white hair and a beard, wearing slacks and a button-up?"

The older guy hummed in thought for a moment, before finally nodding in recognition, "Yeah, I think so. Came in around three or four? Fella sure can drink," he laughed, oblivious to the flash of pain in Beth's eyes. "Stayed for a couple hours and left before six, I think."

"Yeah, because that's what time his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings are over," she bit, the bitterness escaping her before she even had a chance to contemplate her words.

She was slightly mollified that he at least had enough decency to duck his head in shame, though quickly recovering a moment later. "That still don't tell me exactly what brings you in here this time of night."

Beth found herself in a foreign position. She had lost count of how many times in a day she mentally begged for help, but she was never one to ask for it, fearful of appearing bothersome. Besides, she didn't want to overextend her requests- one day she might really need the help, only to find no one there because she had already exhausted her resources.

But today, she needed help.

And despite the absolute whirlpool of emotions twisting in her gut, she was finally going to overcome her fear.

So that maybe Hershel could then overcome his.

She steeled herself, forcing her shoulders back as she stared directly into the eyes of the men in front of her. "I came to make a deal with you."

**I just wanted to say thanks to everyone reading for giving my story a chance. As someone relatively new to this, your support is greatly appreciated. If have any suggestions or constructive criticism, feel free to share; I'm not sensitive in the slightest. Thank you again!**

**- Ryolie**


	4. Darkness

**IV. Darkness**

"No." The words were out of Daryl's mouth before Beth could blink.

"Now hold on a minute, let's hear the girl out," his brother reasoned, probably more out of intrigue rather than actual concern.

"Merle, there ain't nothing this girl's gonna say that's of any importance to us." He turned to Beth with an accusatory gleam in his eyes, "What did you come to say? To blame us for helping him fall off the wagon? Maybe come in here to spite us, paint some story to tell the police about how we served you underage?"

"No, I wouldn't ever do anything like that. It's not your fault," she quickly assured, almost offended that he would even consider she would do something like that. "My father is responsible for his own decisions, but I… I guess I'm just tired of seeing him make the wrong decisions, is all."

And for some reason, speaking those words hurt her more than anything anyone had ever done to her. She had spent the past few years in denial, clinging onto whatever shred of hope she could find, but pretending that everything was going to be okay in the end was no longer an option. She had spent her entire life putting her father above everything, refusing to remove him from the pedestal that he no longer deserved placement upon.

But because Hershel once was wholly and completely deserving of that pedestal, she deluded herself into thinking that they could go back to their former life. She was too blinded by the man that he once was to see the man that he now was.

And mistake after mistake, she lied to herself; she convinced herself that next time would _finally_ be the time he would change.

Except it never was; and now Hershel had lost everything and everyone important to him.

And by extension, so had Beth.

All because she was too foolish to have any sense of self-preservation.

"Look Blondie, I feel for you and the shit your daddy's putting you through, but if you ain't here to chew us a new one, then what exactly are you here for?" Merle questioned, seemingly at a complete loss.

"Well, I wanted to make a deal with you," she hedged, earning skeptical looks from both of the brothers, as if they could almost sense what she wanted to ask, but doubted she would actually have the courage to say. "I wanted to see what it would take for you not to sell any alcohol to my father."

"We're not doing that." Beth didn't even bother to look at Daryl in response, knowing by now that she wasn't his favorite person. It would take a miracle for someone like him to ever consider helping a poor, pitiful girl like herself. He probably thought she was a naïve little twit for fighting a long-lost battle.

But, maybe she was. As she sat back and surveyed the surrounding ruins, she couldn't help but wonder exactly what this was all for. After all, what exactly what had she accomplished? What had she earned, besides a battered heart and bruised soul?

"Come on now, let's hear the girl out." Merle turned to Beth, and although his refusal wasn't as stern as Daryl's, she could see that he wasn't swayed, either. "Now look, I don't take you for a business kind of girl, but you gotta understand that money's money. Selling liquor is how we make our living, so we can't exactly afford to turn down customers. And even if we did turn him away, what's stopping him from going elsewhere? Then we just we lost money for nothing."

"My dad's blind in one eye, so he doesn't drive anymore. I take him everywhere he needs to go and I can keep an eye on him that way. The only real time I'm away from him is during his meetings because they last three hours and he thinks I go home after I drop him off."

"But you don't go home, do you?" Even though Merle's grin was teasing, it still made her stomach turn to knots. "You lurk around and spy on him?"

She flushed at his implication, the guilt settling in her stomach. It was a battle she faced every day- whether to stay or go. She knew that she wasn't always going to be there to save her father from himself, but it was impossible to let go.

Especially since she knew that without her fighting grip keeping Hershel grounded, he would free fall into the dark abyss that she wasn't sure he would ever recover from.

She ducked her head in shame, muttering, "I just want to make sure he gets better."

Merle sighed, "Well be that as it may, we still can't refuse him service; we ain't living that kind of luxury life."

"I'll pay you," she blurted out, not even realizing what she was saying. How exactly would she pay them? She had never even had a real job, always too busy trying to take care of the utter chaos that was her life instead. She barely even had time to sleep, let alone spend several hours a day at a job she would likely resent after a few weeks of working.

"You're gonna pay me?" Merle quirked an eyebrow, "Do you realize that your daddy dropped almost fifty dollars in here, not including the ten dollar tip he gave before leaving?"

"I'll double it," once again, the words flew out of her mouth before she even had a chance to rationally think of what she was doing. "I'll pay you a hundred dollars for every day that he has therapy and you refuse him service."

"And how often does your daddy have therapy?"

"Threes day a week," she explained, desperately trying to keep the cringe off of her face as she realized she had absolutely no way of paying that kind of debt.

"So you're saying you can afford to pay us three hundred dollars every single week? You sure you got that kind of money? Must be a real, good paying job, huh?" It was clear that Merle didn't believe her at all, and when she glanced over at his brother, she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of his face. At least Merle had tried to give her the benefit of the doubt; Daryl was just a pompous jerk from the beginning.

"Yes," she lied.

"Blondie, you got heart and I can respect that, but your plan ain't going to work; because one, it don't take no dummy to know that you don't have that kind of money in the first place; and two, because you can't help your daddy if he can't help himself."

Her frustration was threatening to boil over, feeling the tears pricking at her eyes. She wanted to fall on her knees and beg, but she could sense that their minds were already made up. She swallowed, unsaid words scorching her throat as they retreated back into her gut, buried beneath the acid and scorched to ashes.

She flashed a polite smile, "Well, thank you for your time."

And then she rushed out into the companionship of the rainy night, fighting the urge to succumb to the surrounding darkness.


	5. Surge

**V. Surge**

After dropping Hershel off at his meeting, Beth debated on whether she should just go home. She knew deep down that she couldn't take seeing her father sneak into the corner bar again, but for whatever reason, she took her normal seat in the coffee shop across the street. She supposed she was still holding out hope that maybe it was just a one-time mistake.

After all, that was what she always did. She had lost count of how many one-time mistakes she had excused for Hershel.

_You're not his daughter. Don't you see?_

She hung her head, tears stinging her eyes as the words replayed in her mind. The scene would forever haunt her, forever make her wonder exactly where things went wrong. When exactly had her family turned into this devastating tragedy that stood before her eyes? She almost felt like an outside onlooker, like this wasn't really her family she was observing.

Even after everything, it was still so hard to believe where she stood. If not for the fact that she could look at her phone for physical evidence that she hadn't spoken to her sister in over a month, Beth could have sworn it was all a dream.

_You're just his naïve enabler- that's all you're worth to him_.

They blamed each other. One sister was too quick to give up. The other was too foolish to know when to give up.

_Well, you're worth more than that to me._

And though Beth never admitted it, she wondered if that was true. Maggie had Glenn now. As she grew further and further away from her father, she grew closer to the boy she least expected. She found a love she could have never anticipated- a love that she once declared she would never want in the first place.

With an engagement to the love of her life and a scholarship to the college she had always dreamed of, Maggie had everything.

But Beth only had her father.

_Please, come with me tomorrow. Please, say that you're done with this. I need you to be done with this, because I am. I can't deal with this life anymore. I can't look into his eyes and see how happy we used to be, only to realize how miserable we are now._

Though Maggie never explicitly said it, Beth knew what she needed. Maggie intended to leave once and for all. She never wanted to hear or think of her father ever again. But how could you erase someone so intricately bound into your life?

You cut all ties to them- and to everything associated with them.

Beth knew what that meant, but still, she stood resolute in her decision.

_I won't choose._

Was it because she didn't want to? Or was it because she simply couldn't? To this day, Beth still didn't know.

But she would never forget the hardened look her elder sister held, the way she forced her features into nonchalance. It made her heart break, similar to how she knew her sister's was, even though she refused to show it. But Maggie Greene had sworn that she would never shed another tear over Hershel Greene and she meant it.

_You already chose._

Her sister's last words often woke her from sleep. Sometimes they even prevented her sleep, but those were the good nights. The line was between reality and the dark abyss of her nightmares was blurred. She preferred insomnia. Sleep made her vulnerable. Sleep tricked her mind into believing that it could rest, only to put her guard down to be tortured by thoughts she shoved away long ago.

And when Hershel's unmistakable form appeared at the hospital's exit not even an hour later, she knew she could never shut her eyes again.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She couldn't feel.

An all-consuming numbness cut her off from the world, a thunderous roar of emotion shaking her mind, shattering her soul. It seemed as if everything had simultaneously sped up and slowed down at the same time. The world around her was ice. The jagged shards sliced at her, leaving her to bleed out, to slowly succumb to a painful death. She should have been numb, but instead she was a live wire, scorching with fire and intensity.

She burst from her chair, tears cascading down her cheeks. She didn't even know where she was going, her body simply removing her from the scene before her. In an effort of self-preservation, she cowered into the restroom, snatching the lock into place.

She couldn't breathe; the world around her becoming painted with black spots. Squeezing her eyes shut, she desperately willed the image to cease replaying over and over again. She snatched her hair out of its braid, an effort to conceal her blithering face from the mirror before her, the tug of pain a welcome distraction.

_Just make it end._

But how? That was the question. Always had been the question.

She wasn't sure how long she was locked away before she heard a knock.

Biting on her lip to contain her sniffles, she paused. Had she been mishearing things? No, she decided, hearing the faint knock a few moments later. She wanted to ignore it, but quickly realized that wasn't fair. This was a public restroom, after all.

She inched the door open, spying a hazel-eyed boy peering through the crack. Flushing in absolute mortification, Beth apologized, "I'm sorry for taking so long, I'll be out in a moment."

"No, it's fine, I just saw you…" He trailed off in awkwardness, "Well, I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Oh, uh, yeah… I'm fine." A thick cloak of awkwardness enshrouded them. In an effort to combat it, Beth flashed a tight smile, "Thank you."

The boy beamed in response, the tips of his ears tinged pink. "No problem; I'm Jimmy." The he chuckled, pointing to his nametag pinned to his apron, "But I guess you already knew that."

Beth stared at his outstretched hand for a moment as if it would bite her, finally taking it for fear of appearing rude. "Hi, I'm Beth."

"Well, it's nice to finally know the name of the girl who comes in every day."

"Every other day," she sniped in defense before realizing how rude she was being. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. I'm not usually like this, I'm just…"

"Having a bad day?" He finished, quickly accepting her apology. "It's alright, I kind of figured. That's why I came to check up on you."

Beth suddenly found the floor very interesting, refusing to look up into the boy's glittering gaze. He seemed… happy. Genuinely happy, which was something that she hadn't seen in a very long time. Admiration and jealousy flooded her. "Well, thanks again. Um, I have to be going to now, if you'll excuse me."

As she slipped past him, he called out to her, "Wait, will I see you again this week?"

"Of course," she lied, knowing that she would never come back again.

Everyone knew she was weak. After a much waged war within, she even knew it to be true herself. But to set foot in a place, to face someone who had physical evidence of her tears and subsequent weakness, was bizarre.

And even though she felt guilty for lying to the first person to show her an act of kindness in a very long time, she simply knew she didn't possess the courage to show her face again.

As she exited the tiny shop, greeted by the bitter bite of the December air, she froze.

Did her eyes deceive her? She blinked. No, the vision before her was real.

Hershel was walking back to the therapist's office.

The surge of joy made her heart ache. She wondered if it was because happiness was a foreign emotion now. Perhaps her body recognized it as an intruder, attacking it in self-defense. Or perhaps after going without for so long, her body had lost its tolerance for it. Maybe it was poisoning her, slowly seeping into her withered veins and blackened heart.

Quickly checking her watch, she realized that only twenty minutes had passed since she first saw him enter the bar. And while twenty minutes didn't exactly paint him in an entirely innocent light, it was enough to fuel the spark of hope that had almost completely smoldered to ash. Even from her distance, she could see that he didn't sway and slip as he walked. Had her father finally managed to grasp control of his drinking?

Or had some divine intervention taken place?

Before she even realized it, her feet had carried her to the bar and she burst through the door sporting an idiotic grin, only to be met with a familiar pair of disapproving eyes.

"What do you want now?"

**So, first and foremost, I just want to apologize for how long this update took. To say the least, life has been rough these past few months, which is certainly no excuse, but I figured I do owe you all an explanation. Not to mention the fact that the death of Beth mildly put a damper on my desire to write about her, but the way I see it, just because she is no longer a part of the show doesn't mean we can't carry on with where we would like/anticipate the character to go.**

**Also, I am sorry for how short this chapter is. I promised longer chapters as the story picked up, which I do intend on keeping, but I just wanted to quickly put this out here to hedge my way back into writing after such a long break.**

**Next chapter is already in the works and should be up soon. Happy New Year everyone!**


	6. Crash

**VI. Crash**

"My father was just in here."

"Yeah, so what?" Daryl then turned his back to her, stacking clean glasses beneath the counter. "Didn't you hear what I said last time? You ain't allowed in here."

"But my dad-"

"He came in, grabbed a drink, and left," he cut her off, not even bothering to look up from his task.

"Only one drink?" An unfamiliar emotion swelled within her chest, and for the first time since she could remember, she wanted to cry for a reason other than utter desolation.

"That's what I said, ain't it?" He grumbled, "Swear I'm gonna have to hire security to keep little girls out."

She blinked, quickly feeling her joy being overtaken by anger. From the very start, Daryl had done nothing but dismiss and belittle her. How dare he try to rob her of her first shred of happiness in years with his unnecessary attitude?

"Little girl? Are you kidding me? You're the one who has done nothing but act like a child since I first stepped foot in here," she snapped. "I tried to approach you like an adult, tried to explain to you about my daddy, but you wouldn't even let me get a word in edgewise."

"Well, looks like you ain't need my help, anyway. Looks like your daddy got it all under control now." His dark eyes focused on her, but rather than appear smug and condescending like she expected, they were blank.

He was hiding something.

And there was just something about his words that made her pause. Something that made it seem like he had something to prove. Something that made her think he was trying to convince her.

Something that made her realize he was feigning innocence.

And the longer she contemplated it, the more she could feel her grin faltering, realizing that her suspicion was more than likely a reality. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Oh, just what in the hell are you on about now?" He was a good liar, she had to admit. If she hadn't had so much practice in the art of deciphering the truth, he probably could have convinced her of his ignorance.

But if there was one thing she could thank Hershel for, it was the fact that she would never be taken for a fool again. Or, at least not without knowing the full truth beforehand. She supposed her decisions made even after being fully aware of all the lies didn't exactly paint her in the most intelligent light, but she no longer went into things blind.

"You're the one who stopped him, aren't you?" She glared at him, "Go ahead, lie to me. Lie and tell the innocent little girl that it was all my daddy's decision not to drink. Tell me that you didn't have anything to do with it."

He turned his back to her again, focusing on storing his glassware with much more care than she knew would be usual, fully intent on ignoring her until she went away.

"Answer me!" She snapped, but still received no response. She could feel her face growing hot, both from anger and embarrassment. She knew what Daryl thought, knew that he assumed she was just a silly little girl wishing on a falling star destined to smash into the earth at an obliterating force, shattering into a million unrecognizable pieces.

But she wasn't that girl anymore and she would be damned if anyone thought she was.

She marched behind the counter, snatching the glass out of his hand. He glared at her, but she refused to let him speak and spew anymore lies, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me the truth. You can have security remove me, or you can even remove me yourself, but I'll just come back every single day until you tell me the truth. Why don't you just make this easier for the both of us and tell me what really happened?"

His eyes hardened, glancing at the ground for a split second before maintaining his stance. She almost feared he was going to remain silent, but he finally cleared his throat, "Was what you wanted anyway, wasn't it? You wanted me to stop selling to your paw, so I did."

"But I…" She bit her lip, not even knowing what she was trying to say.

But I thought things were finally changing.

But I was finally gaining faith that I had long ago lost.

But I can't keep saving someone who can't save himself.

But I've lost everything and I can't keep doing this. Any of this.

In an effort to distract herself from the impending tears, she absentmindedly plucked at the metal studs lining the bar. "I lied; I don't have enough money to pay you for his drinks. I'm not sure why I ever said I did."

He shrugged, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind, "It's fine."

"What about your brother? Won't he be mad?"

"Merle don't come in until after dark, most days. Your daddy should be long gone by then." He scratched at his unruly locks, making them stick out even more in disarray. Beth bit her lip to contain her giggle, finding amusement in the fact the intimidating man before her slightly mimicked a plucked chicken.

When he cut her a narrowed glance, she simmered, "This is your business, though. I should pay you in compensation…"

"It's fine," he repeated.

"Fine," she echoed, mollified when his face soured at her childish behavior.

The ensuing silence that surrounded them was uncomfortable to say the least. There were so many questions that she wanted to ask, but she knew that she would only get a vague response at best. Daryl was a bizarre man, that was for sure. She couldn't fathom why a guy who obviously held such disdain for her would bother granting her any favors, especially without receiving anything in return.

"You didn't... you didn't tell him I was spying, did you?" She really hoped that however Daryl had managed to convince her father to only buy one beer, he hadn't mentioned her name. It would absolutely crush her dad if he realized that his daughter no longer trusted him.

After losing Maggie, Beth knew her father couldn't take losing her too.

"No, I didn't." He stared at her a few more moments before finally relenting, huffing as if he would rather be at the dentist undergoing a root canal than standing here with a measly little girl, "Told him new bar rules don't let us sell more than two beers to customers 'til after five. Don't know if he really believed me, but he ain't fight me on it."

"Yeah, he's not really a fighter until after he's had about a twelve-pack." It was meant to be a joke, but the words sounded harsh and empty even to her ears.

"He hits you?" His words startled her, his accompanying glower completely catching her off guard. Beth had quickly concluded that Daryl was a naturally brooding man, but this was different. Though he tried to keep his face trained, she could sense his thinly veiled fury seething beneath the surface, fists balled at his sides. She wondered if his palms would need stiches the way he dug his nails into his flesh.

"What?" Beth blinked in confusion, "No, of course not. I just meant that it takes a lot for his anger to take over. And even then, it's never on woman, especially not his own daughter. My dad's quite the pacifist."

"Good," he bit. "Monsters like that don't get no redemption."

"I…" And in an effort not to let the awkward silence consume them, she squeaked, "Thank you?"

His anger gave way to confusion, the furious slits in his eyes lessening to peer at her. If she didn't know any better, she would say he was curious. "For what?"

"Well, I… I guess I'm not used to people asking me stuff like that." She hated how ridiculous her words sounded in her ears, so she clarified, "I just mean that people usually always assume everything's okay because I'm perfect, little Beth Greene. And, I mean I'm not saying that everything isn't okay, because it definitely is, but it's just nice to have someone actually ask instead of just assuming."

And somehow, Daryl seemed as if he understood her rambling better than she did herself. He released a grim chuckle, and with a start, Beth realized it was the first time he had expressed an emotion besides dismay. "You snuck into a bar in the middle of the night and tried to bribe a bartender with money you don't even have. I think it's safe to say everything ain't okay."

And despite everything, Beth found herself smiling in return.


End file.
